


Mask of the Charlatan

by blacksheep33512, joufancyhuh



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Batman AU, F/M, Tags will be added with fic, with art!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-04-24 03:26:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14347014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacksheep33512/pseuds/blacksheep33512, https://archiveofourown.org/users/joufancyhuh/pseuds/joufancyhuh
Summary: On a rooftop above the sparkling lights of Kadara Port, Reyes Vidal runs into a mysterious woman in black leather that sets in motion a chain of events to forever change the city he loves.





	1. Shadow of the Jackal

**Author's Note:**

> Origin story: This started as a joke around Halloween. I knew Sheep was a big Batman fan like myself and they were talking about possible outfits for Reyes to wear. I approached them, asking "What if he was Batman and the Pathfinder was Catwoman?" And now here we are, over six months later with this very detailed fic idea. Who's laughing now? 
> 
> What you're coming into is two geeks being geeks. Be prepared for villains. Be prepared for references. Be prepared for beautiful art from Sheep. 
> 
> Art by [Blacksheep33512](http://blacksheep33512.tumblr.com/) (art will be added after the initial post of each chapter, also found on their tumblr)  
> Beta'd by [GuileandGall](http://archiveofourown.org/users/guileandgall)

The city smells like death tonight.

Bodies rot in the gutters, unfortunate souls tossed out the back of Sloane Kelly’s throne room with halves of their faces missing. Her guards, no more than glorified thugs, laugh amoung themselves while they snatch omni-tools in search of chits, the orange glow casting hellfire across their grotesque expressions of greed. These useless husks end up kicked off the top of the mountain when the guards finish, joining the rest of the dead in the trenches that separate Kadara Port from the Wastelands.

Everyone in this place knows better than to cross Sloane.

The Charlatan knows better too, though his struggle for justice rages on despite any consequences that stem from his possible capture. He keeps to the shadows under his mask of a jackal, fighting the corruption the Kadaran queen unleashes into his streets.

He grimaces at the sight of another deposed body, familiar since Sloane’s rise to power. Did he know this one? He’ll check the missing person’s reports back at his base, the faces in his databank increasing in number with each passing day. He steps back into the darkness from his position on an adjacent roof, disgust hard set in his features. For too long, Sloane held control of the city. He means to rip it from her clutches, liberate his city to fulfill its potential as the thriving epicenter of Andromeda.

Death by a thousand cuts. It’s slow work, but it gifts his nights with meaning, that each criminal buried out in the Wastes means one less to worry about, one more strike against Sloane.

“There is a crime being committed four kilometers away,” SAM cuts through the Charlatan’s comms, a map on the omni-tool pinging a nearby location.

He tightens his cowl and takes off in a sprint, boots slapping against the tiles as he prepares for his jump onto a neighboring rooftop. He unhooks his grappling gun from the belt around his waist and in one smooth motion, fires at a larger building three blocks away, waiting for the sharp pull of the rope to signal the hit.

Cape extended out behind him, he leaps into the air, aided by his gun to swing him in the right direction. When he reaches his desired altitude, the hook releases, the light polymer of his cloak enabling his silent, swift glide through the air toward his destination. This feeling of flying stays with him, a beautiful unspoken moment shared between himself and the black starless skies of Kadara, a suspended moment in time before landing and kicking ass.

SAM’s navpoint leads him in the direction of the Wasteland, to the office building of Sloane’s business partner, Dr. Farenth Isley. Neither the Charlatan nor anyone in his employ knows what happens here, but whatever it is, nothing good comes out of those doors. He agreed with his right-hand, Keema, to wait to enter the premises until an opportune moment arose, and here it presents itself, slinking out of a skylight in a skintight black leather outfit with small pointed ears on top of her head.

She twitches at the sound of his landing, head whirling around as she shoves what looks like a flash drive into her cleavage before zipping the front of her suit back up. “Ah, you must be the infamous Charlatan,” she purrs, a coy smile crossing her blood-stained lips. “I had wondered when the two of us would meet.”

“You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t know who or what you’re supposed to be. A cat?”

She laughs, throwing her head back as a gloved hand covers her mouth. “Good try, and not entirely wrong. Though I suppose you’ll find out for yourself soon enough.”

With a cautious step forward to not scare her away, he holds out a hand. The lenses from her mask glare with the lights of the city, leaving him no indication for her possible reactions.  “Hand over what you stole and this won’t need to get ugly.”

She clicks her tongue, waving her finger side to side, that coy smile still present on her lips. “Finders keepers, but you’re welcome to try and get it back yourself.” She reaches behind her, presumably for a weapon.

He takes the initiative, drawing his gun first and aiming for her heart. He glances down at what she holds in hers, a long whip to match her outfit. He can’t help the snicker that follows. “You brought a whip to a gunfight.”

The melancholic expression on her face falls as she squeezes the whip in her hand. “As much as you like to cowboy around, this ain’t the Wild West, _partner_. Violence like yours only breeds more violence.”

“And what do you call your actions?”

She grins. “Chaos.” The whip cracks across the distance, knocking the gun out of his grip before he realizes what happened. He barrel rolls onto the ground, swiping his weapon off the floor and raising it to train the crosshairs back on her, but she disappears, only her laughter ringing out in the brisk night air.

“See you around, Anubis.”

He darts to the edge of the roof, searching for a trace of where she vanished, but it turns up nothing. Time for him to include his secret resource. “SAM, do you know anything about this woman in leather? Who she is or where she came from?”

“Negative, Charlatan. This is the first time she’s appeared on any scans.”

“Search all recent burglaries and cross-reference them with any vids that might have been taken.”

The comm goes quiet, then a, “Nothing came up,” chimes in his ear.

“Fuck!” He stomps in place, hands balled into fists at his side. “Do we know what she stole?”

“This building isn’t listed on the public network. I will need a way to access their mainframe in order to ascertain that information.”

The Charlatan nods before slipping into the building using the mystery woman’s exit path. He lands on the ground with a soft thud before stalking toward what looks to be a laboratory, the most logical choice for finding a computer. The door doesn’t open, but after a few clicks on the omni-tool, the light over the handle switches from red to green.  

His guess pays off; a computer sits to the far side of the room. “Give me five minutes in the vicinity,” SAM states.

He glances around, trying to divine how that woman got inside a building he himself tried to infiltrate on multiple occasions. Maybe she came from the labs herself, one of the scientists employed here. How else would she know what to steal?

He wanders over to the counters, lifting a glass test tube as he studies the emerald green substance coating the inside. He swipes his forefinger on the inside, rubbing it against his thumb as he sniffs it. The scent comes off as familiar, something dangerous. He analyzes the lab, noting the bunsen burners and separatory funnels, the hazardous waste bin and the equipment locked in the windowed cabinet.

“Charlatan.”

“Yes, SAM?”

Something eats at him, a nagging that attempts to warn him. He knows what this is. He knows what they make here.

“This building contains the formula for Oblivion.”

The news burns through him like wildfire. The most dangerous drug in Andromeda, and this self-proclaimed agent of chaos now holds it in her possession.

“SAM, inform Keema and post a reward for the apprehension of this woman. Emphasize capture, not kill. We don’t know if she’s working with someone or trying to sell it.”

“Yes, Charlatan.”

As the vigilante returns topside, he vows to his city that this woman will be found. He refuses to let anything stand in his way.

 

 

 

 


	2. The Dark Prince Charming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You look like you’re waiting for someone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Dark Prince Charming: We highly recommend this series. Beautiful artwork. Volume 2 just came out and WOW, it did not disappoint!
> 
> It's awesome to be able to post this during ME AU week. This is the AU I've become obsessed with, that I super love. It involves a LOT of geeking out on my part, and I can't wait to unveil all the supervillains that show up. I really love this story and how it's turning out and I hope you, dear reader, do too. Batman holds a special place in my heart and it's been a lot of fun to twist the lore and mix two of my favorite things, Batman and Mass Effect.

Reyes Vidal straightens his bowtie after smoothing out his tux, careful not to appear as though he climbed through the staff elevator shaft. His golden brown eyes assess his surroundings, alone in a small corridor leading to the ballroom that houses the party to welcome Nexus Diplomat Foster Addison to Kadara.

“Vidal, please try to stay focused on your assignment. Now is not the time to strengthen your playboy persona.”

Reyes slips into the room, the door swishing closed behind him. If anyone asks, he will say he got lost trying to find the men’s room.

“SAM, I’m hurt that you think me anything but a professional.”

Reyes plays the part of a guest well, blending easily into the crowd. His goals for the night rings clear through his mind: mingle with the guests, eat a few appetizers, and eventually sneak upstairs into Sloane’s office to steal information about Oblivion off her computer. If he can fit in discovery of the reason behind the diplomat’s arrival after two years of being cut off from the Nexus, he’ll take that, too, but the stakes run high. Sloane won’t hesitate to kill him if he gets caught and the information takes priority.

Keema catches his eye from her discreet corner of the room. She nods, raising a glass of champagne toward him. He thanks her when he gets within arms reach to accept the drink. “I wondered when you might join me. It’s not like you to keep a woman waiting, Reyes.”

Reyes slips on his mask of aloofness, unnecessary around his old friend but he wouldn’t put it above Sloane and her cronies to bug the place. “You weren’t the only woman waiting, Keema, just the more decent one.” He takes the glass, giving the appearance of taking a drink without letting any of the liquid past his lips. He needs to remain alert for this job, none of his senses dulled, though the temptation to take a sip lingers.

Keema smirks, tipping her own glass with a white-gloved hand. “Have you seen our hosts yet?”

He shakes his head. “I’ll keep my eye out. Should I send them your way?”

“I’m fine observing, thank you. However, I hear the diplomat’s a lovely conversationalist. And her protege even more so.” She inclines her head toward the bar where a stunning woman stands in a deep blue dress, dark brown hair pulled up in a crown braid. “Someone worth knowing, I think.”

“I should introduce myself, then.” Reyes takes his leave, making his way through the crowd toward the woman whose laughter chimes through the otherwise stiff air of the event, the bartender across from her grinning at the sound, most likely because of a joke told. She gives the impression of an easy mark, her smile welcoming.

The light from the chandeliers catch in her eyes, which match the blue hue of her dress, as she assesses Reyes’ approach. Her smile holds as he slides into the empty space next to her. He sets his full glass on the bar before half-turning in her direction, the corners of his lips quirking up as his gaze rolls over her full figure. She’s stunning, he won’t deny that, though gross wealth drips off her in the form of the diamonds draped about her neck and wrists. As far as assignments go, he’s had worse.

“You look like you’re waiting for someone.” His signature line, and it works every time.

She cocks her head to the side, the same smile on her red lips as she responds, “Enjoying the free alcohol, sir?”

His brow wrinkles, his smirk turning into a confused grin. His opening line never fails, it has had a 100% success rate, at least until she bats it away as though an annoying gnat. “I’d enjoy it more if you’d share a glass with me,” he replies, undeterred by her reaction.

“As delightful as that sounds, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline on that, sir. I’m sure there are several in the crowd who might happily take you up on your offer however.”

He tries not to let her indifference throw off his confidence. Maybe not an easy mark after all, but her professionalism impresses the part of him that isn’t aggravated by the situation. “Though none more ravishing than you, Miss…?”

“Ryder.”

A last name, but a crack in her defenses, one he’ll gladly take. “Miss Ryder. As I was saying, your beauty outshines everyone here. If you’d allow me, I’d like to take you out sometime.”

“Sir, I-”

“Reyes.”

She stops, pursing her lips together. “Reyes?”

“Reyes Vidal, at your service.” He bows in a sweeping gesture, taking her hand to plant a kiss on the back. When he glances up, her reddened face draws into a scowl, ripping her hand away and brushing it against her dress. An impish reaction from his lovely companion, but one that spurs him on.

“Mr. Vidal, then. At this point, you are being a nuisance. I’ve given you clear signals that I am not interested. I’m trying to do my job here,  but you--”

“What do you do?”

She rolls her eyes. “I imagine you already know, Mr. Vidal, considering the beeline you made for me. I don’t take kindly to people trying to use my position with Foster Addison or Sloane Kelly for themselves, and I’d appreciate it if you left, before I’m forced to call security.”

He can’t help the burst of laughter that punctuates her perturbed rant, earning a glare sharp enough to slice skin. “You’re cute when you’re angry, you know that?”

Her eyebrows arch as she says, “And you’re creepy when you’re pushy.” She raises her wrist, her omni-tool popping up as she starts to say, “Secu-”

He places his hand over the ‘tool, shutting it off for the moment. “Alright, alright. Message received. I’ll go.” He can’t afford to leave the party so early, not when his main objective remains incomplete. “But I’ll be seeing you, Ryder. You can count on that.”

“I seriously hope not. It might prove unfortunate for you.”

He winks, lingering to gift her with one of his trademarked smirks, one that tended to drive men and women into his bed. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.” But he leaves all the same, the assistant only a side mission, though one impervious to his charms. He’ll have more chances with her, hopefully more pleasant, in the future.

“Vidal,” SAM cuts in almost as soon as he steps away, leaving Reyes with the impression that the AI waited to speak up.

“What is it, SAM?”

“If you wish to view the files on Sloane Kelly’s computer, you will need to find a way to redirect Ryder’s newfound interest in you.”

“Have Keema provide a distraction.”

Reyes positions himself at a bar that leaves him within full view of the staircase, ordering a fresh glass to hold untouched in his hands while he waits for Keema to make her move. Not wanting to appear obvious, his eyes travel across the room before settling on where Ryder continues her troubled glare in his direction while typing into her omni-tool. That may spell trouble; Keema needs to intervene quick before any alarms sound. He can’t afford Ryder pulling the plug on his operation so soon. Perhaps his unmasked persona riling her up wasn’t his best option, especially so soon into the beginning of the night. In his defense, he didn’t account for her resistance, an uncommon occurrence in these types of assignments.

If Sloane’s thugs came for him, it might prove troublesome. They wouldn’t take him out here, not with the diplomat present, but he doubts they’d release him back into the night without giving him a few gifts to remember Sloane’s rules by. And it’d mark him as a troublemaker, someone who doesn’t fall immediately in line. No, he needs to disappear and fast before he ends up tossed into the gutter or fingered for the Charlatan.

Keema arrives, just in time to draw Sara’s attention away with a complaint, it appears by the annoyed expression on Keema’s face and the softened complacency of his new pal. He ducks into the crowd, heading toward the stairs, stooping when he spots Sara glancing over her shoulder for him.

“SAM, how’s security on the top floor?”

“Two men with timed routes and video footage monitored by another.”

“Could you loop it without being suspicious?”

A moment’s hesitation and then, “Done. I suggest haste, Vidal. You have 300 seconds before a guard approaches the first looped feed. It may appear suspect if he is not shown on the monitors.”

Reyes jumps over the banister of the roped-off stairs leading toward the office and dashes up, staying low so none could spot him from below. “Anyone notice my disappearance?”

“Only Ms. Dohrgun. The other guests seem to be heavily intoxicated and remain fixated on their conversations.”

Keep the masses docile. Sloane knows how to stay in power, not that he doubts her tactics, not since she killed the previous governor of Kadara, when she and her Outcast militia took over the city. That moment birthed the Charlatan, so he should thank her in a way. Though a greeting card didn’t seem appropriate.

“Sloane Kelly’s office is the third door on the left. Fifty seconds.”

Reyes curses under his breath and sprints toward the door. The red light indicating the lock shines bright, his heart pounding in his chest. _So close._

“SAM.”

The light switches from red to green and Reyes slides between the compression doors, which only open halfway before SAM recloses them behind his entrance. The panel switches back to its original red.

“Do they suspect anything?”

“No, Vidal. I have reset the cameras to active for all but the office.”

Reyes nods as he scopes out the room in the dark. The room feels more welcoming than he would expect from Sloane, a leather couch in the center of the room along with an oval coffee table. The desk sits off in the corner, the computer he seeks laying out in the open.

“SAM, what do you need from me?”

“Remain in the vicinity for fifteen minutes while I download the information.”

Reyes takes the opportunity to look around the vicious criminal’s office. It appears in all sense, normal, which sets him ill at ease. “SAM, are you sure we’re in the right place?”

“Positive, Vidal. According to recordings from the cameras, Sloane Kelly performs all of her work from this room.”

Not all her work, judging from the lack of bloodstains on the carpet. “No secret rooms or anything?”

“No. Perhaps you are merely seeking to vilify Sloane Kelly to fit your needs for justice.”

Reyes scowls as he picks up a magazine. The woman in question graces the cover with her signature sneer. He flips through it with disinterest, killing time. “Sloane doesn’t need any help on that front.”

“Would it suit you more if she appeared less normal?”

Heels echo in the hallway, cutting his conversation with SAM short. Unsure of where they head, Reyes shoves himself under the desk, due to a lack of better hiding places, settling there just before the overhead lights to flick on. It’s a small grace that the desk extends to the ground; he shoves his knees into his chest to compact himself, but not before slipping a knife from the hidden compartment in his boot. He needs to be able to defend himself in the event that he’s discovered.

“SAM?”

“Cameras are back on, Vidal.”

Cassandra Verner’s voice floats through the room in her melancholic tone. “Puddin’ doesn’t want to see you right now.” Sloane’s second in command and sometimes lover is as cruel as she is insane. Sloane’s kills were quick, clean; Cassandra’s work left the bodies unrecognizable. The woman had skills with a knife, a hammer, even an old-school baseball bat. Reyes saw some her victims, and the sight left even him feeling particularly nauseous.

Whatever happens on the other side of the desk, it’s nothing good.

An unfamiliar voice follows as the sharp click of heels halt at the entrance. “Ms. Kelly and I need to discuss the next shipment of supplies. This is no time for a party--”

“Can it, sister. You’re here because Puddin’ allows it. You’re lucky she doesn’t send you and your _pet_ back to Tann-Tann on a stake. Missus S loves stakin’ people.”

“If we don’t talk shipments soon--”

Cassandra cackles, chilling to hear it so close. “Listen here, Adds. You’re not here to make demands of _us_ . You’re here because we allow it. Give us one reason-- _one--_ and we’ll make sure Tann-Tann never finds your body. Is that clear?”

Talk of shipments and Tann identify the owner of the foreign voice as Foster Addison, the diplomat from the Nexus. She sighs before replying with a quiet, “Yes ma’am.”

Cassandra claps her hands in excitement. “Good! Just do what we say and no one gets hurt. Tann-Tann gets his good publicity and we get our supplies. Now, be an obedient little mouse and scurry along. Bother Puddin’ about this without me, and she won’t be so lenient.”

The news sinks hard as it registers in his brain. The Nexus sending a diplomat down represented hope to everyone in Kadara, but to hear it’s a front… anger speeds up the wild beating in his chest. He works so hard for this city, and, still, it only repays him with more corruption, this time higher up the chain of command. The Nexus has abandoned them to Sloane’s unchecked power; Kadara feels truly lost.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sara was unexpected. Originally she was sweet. Now, she's a boss bitch and I'm LIVING for it. This chapter has come so far and I gotta thank my beta, GuileandGall. Keema is a peach, and Addison? But really, anyone who knows me knows I'm obsessed with Cassandra Verner, so it should be no surprise that she comes in as Sloane's second/girlfriend. And to combine that with my love of Harley, it's a dream come true. (I own way too many Harley figures but also not enough).
> 
> [Image here!](http://blacksheep33512.tumblr.com/post/176183449069/mask-of-the-charlatan-chapter-2)

**Author's Note:**

> [BlackSheep's art post!](http://blacksheep33512.tumblr.com/post/173023896844/mask-of-the-charlatan-chapter-1)


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